One of Those Days
by Rain Minstrel
Summary: Legolas has 'one of those days', and things only seem to be going downhill. (PG13 for swearing and A/L later)
1. Good Morning

Legolas woke, feeling like shit. He had drawn the worst watch the night before, the one at the height of the moon. It was impossible to sleep restfully either before or after the shift. Now he had a dull headache and his throat was feeling as if it'd been slashed on the inside by glass. 

The fact that it had been the boisterous sounds of the hobbits chatting cheerfully over breakfast hadn't improved his mood one bit.

Muttering under his breath, Legolas decided that he might as well get up, seeing as there was no way he could get back to sleep. 

It seemed the rest of the Fellowship were already having breakfast.

"G'morning, sunshine!" Pippin said brightly, looking at the Elf's tousled hair and bleary eyes, and trying not to laugh aloud.

For his efforts, the hobbit was rewarded by an Elven death stare, perfected over millennia. It was quite impressive, and Pippin backed off hastily.

Legolas grabbed a plate from one of the saddlebags, wiping a dried bit of food off first. Did _none_ of the Fellowship possess the wondrous skills necessary to wash the dishes properly?  


He stated that opinion aloud, to the shocked silence of the rest of the group.

"Well…uh," stammered Merry, who had caught Legolas's death-stare at Pippin, and now was justifiably afraid. "We haven't done those dishes yet. Breakfast is over." He gulped, visibly wilting under Legolas' icy glare. "We thought you didn't want any, as you refused to wake up when we called."

Legolas advanced forward menacingly, and the hobbit gave a small shriek and leapt out of his way. 

"Where is Aragorn?" he asked, trying but not succeeding very well to keep the irritation from his voice. He had not seen his lover since his watch.

"Out," replied Gimli, as helpfully as ever.

"Said he'd be back later today," added Boromir.

Legolas ground his teeth, marvelling at his own patience and sweet temper. Anyone less composed than himself would have left the campsite a bloody mess of heads and bodies by now.

Really, he quite amazed himself sometimes.

He went to comb out his tangled hair, and re-braid it for the day's journey.

His comb seemed to have gone missing.

And his hairbands.

He patiently searched his bag a second time.

And impatiently searched it a third.

"_Where_," he snarled at the Fellowship, who were looking curiously at him over his shoulder, "are my hair things?"

"Well…." began Merry, then darted behind Boromir's back. "We were running short of supplies, and at the last town we needed something to barter for food, so….Don't hurt me!" he squealed, using the amused Boromir for shelter.

Of course, none of the others had anything remotely resembling hair bands, or even a comb. Legolas could tell that just by looking at them, but he decided to ask them, anyway. There was always a hope….

His intuition was right, unfortunately.

The Prince of Mirkwood was forced to start the day's journey with his long hair unbraided, and still in snarls from the day before.

It was going to be one of those days, he decided.


	2. The art of orienteering

"Farmer Maggot had a farm, E-I-E-I-O!" sang Pippin cheerfully as the Fellowship left their leafy camp and headed West.

"And on that farm he had a carrot, E-I-E-I-O!" Merry joined in.

Pippin stopped, and stared at him.

"How the hell am I supposed to make the sound of a carrot?" he asked his cousin in annoyance.

Merry pouted a bit, thought, then amended: "And on that farm he had a mushroom, E-I-E-I-O."

"Idiot of a Brandybuck, with less brains than a fish has legs!" Pippin muttered.

Merry looked hurt. "Well, Farmer Maggot never had anything on his farm but carrots and mushrooms. How can I sing about ducks and pigs and cows if the Farmer never had 'em?"

"Fine," retorted Pippin. "You can start first, then!"

"Farmer Maggot had a farm, E-I-E-I-O," sang Merry.

"And on that farm he had a carrot, E-I-E-I-O!" Pippin continued, looking smugly at his cousin from the corner of his eye.

"With a…with a…." Merry scratched his head, looking puzzled. "Oh."

"Exactly. Oh," said Pippin, sounding very satisfied. 

Legolas grit his teeth, and tried to ignore them.

He wasn't exactly in the mood for singing that day.

His gaze shifted to Boromir, who had taken over the map since Aragorn had disappeared. The human was trying very hard to decipher the map, but Legolas doubted he would get far, as he was holding it the wrong way up.

"According to the map," Boromir said, frowning hard at it and sticking his tongue from the corner of his mouth, "the village of Spot should be….there." He pointed a finger straight at the bemused Legolas.

The hobbits sniggered.

Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Who decided Boromir would be our leader, anyway, if ever Aragorn was gone?" he asked.

The Fellowship shrugged in unison. "Eeny-meenie-miny-mo."

"Come, friends!" said Boromir, tucking the map away again. "This way!"

"We're meant to be heading West!" said Legolas, to the incredibly dense human. "West!" He stood facing Boromir, and pointed to his own left. See? The sun's on the east, because it's morning, so we should be heading to the right!"

Boromir looked at where Legolas pointed, and shook his head. "Nuh. We are heading right! See?" He waved his own right hand, which was of course, to Legolas' left.

"That's the wrong right!" shouted Legolas, completely exasperated.

"Nuh," said Boromir again, although he did look confused about the wrong right. "We're going the right right, because it's my right, and I'm the one holding the map, see?" He showed Legolas the crumpled parchment.

"But-" Legolas began to explain, then saw the light through Boromir's ears, and gave up.

The Fellowship headed right. Boromir's right.

Soon, they reached a sandy expanse, dotted with rocks and the occasional scorpion or green tuft of plant.

"Doesn't look much like a forest to me," said Frodo doubtfully. "I thought Aragorn was meeting us at the other side of the Lost Woods?"

"Course it looks like a forest!" said Boromir heartily. "Trees are still growing, that's all."

Legolas eyed the spiny cacti and prickly lichen glued fast to the rocks. The little scorpions grinned at him, waving bright red claws in the air.

"Elves first!" Boromir continued.

"What?!" protested Legolas.

"Lead the way!" said Boromir. "You're an Elf. Elves are at home in forests. You can lead us out to the other side."

Legolas glared at Boromir, but the warrior beamed at him with sincerity.

The Elf sighed. 

But he could hardly complain about Boromir leading, if he himself refused to.

He took a step forward. And another. The hot sands shifted uneasily under his feet.

The Fellowship stood and watched.

Sand trickled into his boots, and Legolas received the strange impression that he was shrinking.

He tried to lift his foot up to take another step, then realised he was firmly stuck.

"This is quicksand!" he yelped, struggling hard to free himself.

"Oh, you'll be fine!" Boromir said. "Elves are light on their feet. They don't even sink in snow."  
  
"This is not snow!" screamed Legolas, getting sucked in deeper and deeper as the Fellowship looked on curiously. "I said, this is quicksand!"

Boromir looked at the others. "What exactly is this quicksand?"

They shrugged back.

"Never seen it before," said Sam.

"We don't have it in the Shire," explained Frodo.

"Or in caves," Gimli added.

"Well, what _is_ it?" Boromir asked Legolas, who was now up to his chest in the sand.

"I don't know what it is!" snapped Legolas. "But are you going to just stand there and watch me sink?"

The Fellowship frowned.

"It looks kind of dangerous," said Pippin.

"Will we sink if we walk on it, too?" asked Merry.

"I don't know, but I don't think we can just let Legolas sink," answered Frodo.

"Well, do _you_ want to go in?" Gimli asked him.

Frodo eyed the sinking Elf.

"_Someone _has to," he said, finally.

"I know!" said Sam. "Eeny-meenie-miny-mo!"

"Good idea!" agreed Boromir, who had been very happy with the last result. "Eeny-meenie-miny-mo, catch a tiger by his toe. If he squeals, let him go, eeny-meenie-miny-mo!" 

Everyone stared at Sam. He gulped.

"It should have started on Frodo, not Boromir! You have to start with the person at the start of the line!" he protested.

The rest of the Fellowship shook their heads. None of them wanted the result changed. "Nope, Boromir starts because he was the one saying the rhyme!"  
  
Sam muttered something about cheating under his breath as he went to find his rope.

"I'm coming, Legolas!" he called sullenly.

There was no answer.

Where there had been a tangled blond head moments before now stretched mile after mile of glittering yellow sand.


	3. Of bees and polka dots

"He's gone!" shouted Sam, a little unnecessarily.

"What are we going to do?" fretted Pippin.

"Ask Aragorn," answered Boromir cheerfully. "He always knows what to do!"'

"But Aragorn's not _here_!" retorted Gimli. "Dimwit," he added, to himself.

"Oh. Ask Legolas, then! He's nearly as wise!" Boromir nodded enthusiastically.

"Any minute now, and he'll suggest we get Gandalf to magick Legolas out," thought Gimli irritably.

"How about asking Gand – "

"Dig!" commanded Gimli, interrupting Boromir's inane question about the existentially-challenged wizard. Even as he spoke, Gimli saw the tears form in Frodo's huge blue-as-the-ocean, deep-as-the-sea, oops-is-that-my-contact-on-the-ground? eyes.

"Ai!" thought the dwarf to himself. "Everyone, DIG!" he roared, startling them all into obedience.

Having no shovels, the Fellowship knelt and used their hands, doggy-style. It was hard work, because no sooner would they make a dent in the sand, than more would flood in to fill the hole.

"He's…he's _gone_!" wailed Sam, lip trembling, fifteen minutes later when they had still not located the elf.

"Are you sure we're digging in the right place?" asked Frodo thoughtfully.

"Of course we are!" sniffled Sam. "I saw him go down myself…….Legolas, oh Legolas….you're too young to die!"

"Legolas wasn't exactly – _aaaaaargh_!" Merry's scream leap to their feet.

"What?" they asked.

"Th…that!" Merry pointed with a shaking finger at the apparition rising from the ground. Sand poured from it as it stalked toward the Fellowship, but plenty remained on its body. It stalked menacingly towards the huddled group.

Then recognition hit Sam. "Master Legolas! You're alive! Oh, Valar be…." His words trailed off to a squeak as he saw the expression on the Elf's face.

Sand crusted every inch of the Elf, and his face was strangely twisted in emotion. Sam noticed that a tic had started in the corner of Legolas' left eye.

"We are going to find Aragorn, _now_," said Legolas, his voice strangled with the effort of not screaming like a maniac. "We shall not detour into any more….'forests', and I shall be the one to lead you." The calmness of his voice sounded about as stable as a bull being harnessed with cobweb. "We are going, now."

And Legolas turned without waiting for an answer from the group, and made his way back to the plain, gingerly.

Sand had gotten into some very embarrassing and decidedly uncomfortable places.

It was a very subdued trip. Any who thought to ask the elf how he had freed himself from the quicksand were dissuaded by the wildly spasming twitch of his left eye, and the homicidal look on his face.

When they reach "civilized" land again – that is, land with solid green grass beneath them, and tall, leafy trees above them – the hobbits scraped up the courage to approach Legolas with one very important matter that the Elf had seemingly forgotten.

"Er….Master Legolas? It's…it's time for elevenses, Sir," Sam reminded him, torn between his terror of the elf in his current mood, and the disastrous event of missing elevenses.

"Elevenses," Legolas repeated, eye still twitching madly. "Yes, let the world skid to a halt and Sauron forget his plans of domination, while we all enjoy elevenses, shall we?"

Before he could take another step forward, the hobbits had unpacked their food, and were resting comfortably on their picnic blanket.

Boromir looked at Gimli, who shrugged. Then they both grinned and joined the feasting hobbits.

"I am going to climb this tree," announced Legolas. "If you need me….on second thoughts….if you disturb me, you can take the place of my quiver in holding my arrows." He patted his bow menacingly.

The four hobbits looked up at him silmutaneously, and gulped. Legolas was satisfied. At least he could still inspire fear in the hobbits!

The tree he had chosen was rather nice, Legolas thought as he wriggled around, trying to find a more comfortable position. He couldn't wait until they made camp that night, so he could wash and get rid of all that infuriating sand! But the tree was nice, Legolas thought firmly.

He felt his eyes drift closed. It was as good a time as any other to make up for lost sleep, he decided. He was about three seconds away from falling asleep, when a sound next to his ear disturbed him.

"Bzzz."

Sleepily, Legolas swatted in the general direction of the noise, without opening his eyes. But a few seconds later it was back.

"Bzzz."

Irritated, Legolas turned to face the other way, drawing his hood over his face. He didn't want to get up and kill the insect when he had finally gotten comfortable.

"Bzzz!"

Legolas clapped his hands over his ears, eyes still tightly shut.

"Shut UP!" he growled at the disembodied noise. There was quiet for a little longer, and Legolas fell asleep.

"Bzzz!"

This time the insect was so close that Legolas could actually feel its vibrations against his ear. He opened one eye, and nearly fell out of the tree when he saw the insect.

An ordinary observer might have seen that it was a bee. An extraordinary observer might have noted that it was a fat bumblebee, striped black and gold. However, Legolas was no mere ordinary or extraordinary observer – he was an Elf. He saw the wicked smile on the bumblebee's face, and evil glint in its eyes.

"I'm going to get you, Elf," hissed the bee as it flew by his ear.

Legolas jumped up in alarm, and back away along the branch. He fitted an arrow to his bow, and swung around wildly, aiming for the insect that that hovered before him. He missed, of course (even the best of Elven archers cannot hit a bee which is buzzing less than five inches from their face), and his arrow sped on to collect the apple in Sam's hand, and pin it to Boromir's cloak.

"What are you doing up there?" bellowed Boromir.

"The bee!" yelled Legolas frantically, trying to make his voice sound less like a shriek.

"What's wrong with the bee?" asked Gimli.

"I don't like bees!" said Legolas through gritted teeth.

"Well, come down from the tree, then!" suggested Boromir good-naturedly.

"Just…wait…." Legolas had notched another arrow to his bow, and was frowning in concentration at the humming insect.

The arrow sped from his bow, and smushed the bee against the tree trunk.

"Aha!" Legolas cried in satisfaction.

His joy was short-lived as the momentum put him off-balance, and he toppled from the branch.

He tumbled down and down, crashing through the leaves and bouncing off the occasional branch.

Suddenly Frodo's eyes, enhanced as they were with the power of the Ring, went wide.

"Isn't he about to hit that…."

Pippin gaped in shock. "He is!"

Boromir, Gimli, Merry and Sam winced in sympathy.

__

Thwack! Legolas connected with the lowest branch, and the beehive that rested on it. Suddenly the hum of a thousand angry bees filled the air, and only the anguished scream of the elf could be heard above the noise.

A streak of blond hair, trailed by a cloud of buzzing insects, could be seen tearing past the camp. Legolas leapt into the stream, sending the bees that were on him floating to the surface. The cloud above hovered menacingly, not willing to be cheated of their target. Legolas was an elf, however, and could hold his breath much longer than mortal prey could. Muttering angrily, the bees sped off in arrow formation, looking for another unlucky elf, or a building company.

The Fellowship, once they were sure that the bees had left, rushed over to the edge of the stream.

"Legolas!" called Frodo. "Are you hurt?"

"Of course I'm not hurt." Legolas' voice gurgled through the water. "I'm an elf!"

"Well," said Sam tentatively. "Would you like to come out, Master Legolas?"

"No!" came the emphatic reply.

"Why not?" asked Frodo.

There was silence for awhile, then a large splash as Legolas burst from the water, unable to hold his breath any longer.

"Don't say a thing," growled Legolas, fixing the Fellowship with another Elven death stare. This one did not have quite the effect he wanted, though.

After a stunned moment, the Fellowship broke out in helpless laughter.

It's hard to be intimidated by a blue-polka-dotted Elf.


End file.
